Shipwreck

A 24-footer goes on the rocks

Article by Johnny Walker

Late fall, 1972. The tiny yacht Tumbleweed and her solo crew were southbound several miles off the coast of Georgia. A light southeast breeze kept us on course at four knots. I’d been at sea for long enough to feel a bit wary and ready for a full night’s rest. Tumbleweed could self-steer for hours on end, but it was time to make landfall as I was now sailing off the Florida coast and the northbound Gulf Stream was pinching me between its current and the coast. 

Any seasoned offshore sailor knows there is safety far out into the ocean but the danger lies along the coastlines. I was not a seasoned offshore saiIor, but at age 22, I felt invincible. I should have noticed on the chart the submerged stone jetty (built during the civil war) that lies just 4 feet under the surface and protects the entrance to the Amelia River. The tide was low and beginning to flood. The western sunset obscured my vision as I mistakenly sailed over the jetty.